


Thoughts in My Head

by Q_dracul



Series: It’s Not Over [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-01-29 10:27:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21408676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Q_dracul/pseuds/Q_dracul
Summary: Dark Sides' first album, "Thoughts in My Head", was a huge hit and gained them a huge fan following. But, what inspired the lyrics to their songs? What made them so relatable? How were these five guys able to put such pain into words?This book is written from five different points of view.I don't own the Sanders Sides characters. They belong to the wonderfully awesome Thomas Sanders.I'm just the non-binary author that's putting them in angsty situations. I also double as recyclable rubbish.
Series: It’s Not Over [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1512014
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	1. Anxiety (Virgil)

**Author's Note:**

> The original title of this book was supposed to be "Welcome to My Life" after the Simple Plan song. If you're reading this on Wattpad then the video is posted above. If you're reading this on AO3 then I advise hitting up YouTube.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A draft of Virgil’s song is up on YouTube (Search Anxiety (Draft)). I wrote the lyrics and a friend of mine performed the song. The song itself is as the end of the chapter.

Having anxiety is weird. Because, like, everyone has it. Some people just have it worse than others. I’m one of those people. I have it so bad that it honestly makes living a normal life kind of difficult.

“You have generalized anxiety disorder, Virginia.” Even back then I hated that name. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t who I was. But the damn shrink refused to stop calling me that. He was under the impression that my dysphoria was caused by the anxiety and not the other way around.

My dad was with me at the appointment. My mum had taken Patton to go school clothes shopping. If you think I was mad about being dead named you should have seen the look on my father’s face.

That was the last day I saw that therapist.

Three months later I had a new therapist. I had a new psychological evaluation. I had a much better diagnosis. Generalized anxiety disorder, and gender dysphoria. Two separate problems that fed off of each other. At least that’s how my new therapist put it.

She was nicer. She was more understanding. She didn’t know much about the transgender community, but she asked questions and did research. Since my name wasn’t legally changed yet she still had to put “Virginia” in her notes, but when she talked to me, when her office staff and colleagues spoke to me, I was Virgil.

My anxiety was so bad that it was manifesting itself in other ways. I was depressed. I had social anxiety, bordering on agoraphobia. I stayed hidden in my room for two weeks straight because I was certain my family and everyone around me hated me. And during that time I slept for a grand total of 72 hours.

Unfortunately medication didn’t help. We’d tried several different types and with each one I’d get a few months of relief from the symptoms before everything hit hard again.

It took a long while, but we eventually found a combination that worked for me. I was on biodim to lower my estrogen levels and taking a vitamin D supplement along with a daily multivitamin. When I was having a bad day with my anxiety I took an anti-anxiety pill. It wasn’t the best treatment plan, but it had minimal side effects for me and allowed me to function in my day to day life.

I tried mindfulness classes, but it requires a lot of visualization and I got really frustrated because all I saw when I closed my eyes was darkness. Sometimes I’d get a little glimmer of an image, but it would quickly fade as soon as I tried to focus on it. So, I took up painting and the guitar. Both helped a lot.

Things went pretty well for a little while.

Then I started getting bad again.

It wasn’t bad everyday. But, when it was bad it was bad. I started self harming to get the voices to stop. They weren’t actual voices in my head. Just random facts I’d picked up over the years that my brain would suddenly start reminding me about with such speed and urgency.

The speed at which the earth rotated in its axis and around the sun. The fact that no one lived for ever and there was still no definitive proof of what happens after we die. How many times my heart beats per second. The fact that several body functions are involuntary and, hey guess what my brain has decided that I need to voluntarily perform several of them for an unspecified amount of time. The fact that stomach acid is constantly eating away at the longing of the human stomach, but mucus membranes reproduce at a great enough speed that it can’t actually eat through our stomachs. There are millions of bacteria living in and on us that are just waiting for us to kick the bucket so they can feast.

Those thoughts are terrifying. They’re also so very very loud. Too loud. Pain was the only way to stop them. And I welcomed it any chance I got.

Happy moments in my life were small, but welcome breaks from the anxiety and depression. But, bad moments and stressful moments were magnified to be greater than what they were. I eventually stopped enjoying the things that even brought me the tiniest bit of joy.

Then my mum died.

My dad and brother were more concerned about me and how I would handle it than about the fact that we’d just lost her. I started hiding my anxiety. I started hiding the negative thoughts and feelings.

They were my concern. They were afraid of losing me next because my mum and I were the same. Anxious people who felt too much. Who worried too much. I promised I wouldn’t let that happen. I promised I would keep it together for them.

I still don’t know if they ever mourned her.

I worked harder on managing my anxiety in healthy ways. I started painting again. I played and wrote music that resonated with how I was feeling. I wrote a lot of cringe worthy poetry.

I learned my anxiety wasn’t totally useless. If I didn’t have it I wouldn’t have created as much as I did in an attempt to learn how to deal with it. I wouldn’t be a “straight” A student from the constant fear of failure.

_Anxiety_

_I can’t make it through today  
‘Cause I’m thinking ‘bout tomorrow  
And when it comes to be  
I cannot be me  
And I’ll be faced with even more challenges than today  
I am too overwhelmed it seems  
Too anxiously me_

_Well isn’t it nice to be  
Alone with my anxiety  
So obnoxiously me  
And my paranoia’s rolling in at 110  
And at times it’s making me  
Anxiously mean_

_Did I lock my door  
Did I leave the oven on  
What do people say  
When I leave the room  
(Repeat)_

_Well isn’t it nice to be  
Alone with my anxiety  
So obnoxiously me  
In my paranoia’s rolling in at 110  
And at times it’s making me  
Anxiously mean_

_And in the end  
I anxiety is just too scary to ignore  
And I can’t take it  
I can’t shake it anymore_

_Well isn’t it nice to be  
Alone with my anxiety  
So obnoxiously me  
And my paranoia‘s rolling in at 110  
And at times it’s making me  
Anxiously mean  
(Repeat)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Virgil's anxiety is based off of my own anxiety (I have GAD and it comes with added bonus symptoms of depression, ocd, and agoraphobia/social anxiety). So, like my anxiety his isn't easily managed with medication because my body builds up a tolerance pretty fast (if it doesn't decide to flip a switch and develop an allergy).


	2. Change My Mind (Remus)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter. I’m sick. Can’t think.

These thoughts that keep popping into me head are down right terrifying at times. If I don't do a, b, and c then this will happen. No matter what I do x will happen. I hate it.

I’ve been this way since I was five. I’ve been to numerous therapists and we can’t figure out what triggered this change in me. Just one day I started developing rituals and having these really horrible thoughts.

As I got older then got worse. Images of De trapped inside a coffin. Recurring thoughts of Roman being murdered. By me. Yeah, my brother and I don’t always get along and I love to drive him crazy. But, I would never kill him. Or want him dead.

I avoided Roman and De for like three months when those thoughts started. I might have been able to avoid them longer if they hadn’t cornered me and forced me to tell them what was wrong. After taking with them and realizing they didn’t hate me because of these thoughts I started doing a bit better. At least in the communicating the intrusive thoughts area.

That’s probably why I took up the drums. It was something to do with my hands. If I practiced every day I could keep the thoughts quiet.

Logan noticed that I’ve also picked up a habit of counting on my fingers and how I walk has changed a bit. I’m honestly not surprised. He notices everything.

_Change My Mind_

_These reoccurring thoughts in my head  
They’re filling me up with dread  
There’s no escaping them  
There’s no ignoring them_

_The voice in my mind  
Is intruding on my sanity  
These compulsions are nothing novelty  
Obsessions got me afraid  
I’ll lose my friends and family_

_I just need five minutes  
I can’t get five minutes  
There’s no rhyme or reason  
For this  
Psychological treason_

_The voice in my mind  
Is intruding on my sanity  
These compulsions are nothing novelty  
Obsessions got me afraid  
I’ll lose my friends and family_

_The voice in my mind  
Is intruding on my sanity  
These compulsions are nothing novelty  
Obsessions got me afraid  
I’ll lose my friends and family_


	3. I’m Not a Prince (Roman)

I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my room and made a face at my reflection. Of course I was single. Look at me. Who would want to date a guy who looked like me?

My blond hair didn't go well with my olive skin. On others, it was a lovely sight, but on me, it just looked horrible. Especially coupled with with my auburn eyes. To say I wasn’t pleased with my looks was a huge understatement.

I needed to be more confident in myself. I was captain of the football team. I was Vice President of the student government. I earned the male lead roles in nearly all of the school plays.

But, that was different. On the field. On the stage. In the student government meetings. That was a different Roman. That wasn’t really me. That wasn’t the Roman who was standing before me. That wasn’t the Roman that was recovering from an eating disorder. That wasn’t the Roman that couldn’t flirt to save his life. That wasn’t the Roman who couldn’t talk to someone he found attractive.

The real Roman was a loser. The real Roman couldn’t be found out.

No one can know how much of a liar I am.

No one can know how much of a loser I really am.

How shy I really am.

How unhappy and lonely I really am.

I’m not a prince. I’m an imposter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this out. I was in the hospital on a suicide watch. I was in a dark place. I’m better now. Not 100%. But, I am better. I’m back on my meds and I’m not having any bad side effects so far. I started writing this chapter before I went in and just now finished it. So, if it’s choppy that’s why. I kinda lost the ideas I had for it. My bad.


	4. Deception (De)

I had to keep it secret for a long time that I was non-binary. Not for fear of how my friends or parents would treat me, but for fear of how my grandparents would. They were always so outspoken about their disdain for the LGBTQIAA+ community.

I knew at the start of middle school that I wasn’t a boy or a girl, despite being assigned male at birth and being raised as a boy. The pronouns didn’t bother be, but they didn’t make me feel whole either. I didn’t come out to my parents or my boyfriend until my junior year of high school.

I was already hated by my grandparents because I had a boyfriend. I loved Remus too much to keep him a secret from my family though. He was the first one I came out to. He encouraged me to tell my family.

When my grandparents found out they blamed Remus. Said he corrupted me. They belittled and put down the man that I loved and I couldn’t keep lying anymore.

I blew up at my grandparents for the first time in my life. I told them that the only thing Remus ever did was make me feel loved and accepted as who I really am. They didn’t want to hear it, and I didn’t want to hear their homophobic and transphobic bull shit.

I ended up staying the night at Remus’ house that night. My parents, I later found out, chewed out my grandparents for making me feel so horrible.


End file.
